


Interlude

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: Alexander raises a glass. [[Post Laurens's death.]]





	

_On Tuesday the 27th, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was–_

"Alexander, dinner's ready."

He startled at the voice in the silence, dragging his elbows back from the desk. "I'll be down in a minute."

_– killed in a gunfight against British troops in South Carolina._

South Carolina seemed so far, and John's face seemed so distant. He could still see him, color in his cheeks and inextinguishable light in his eyes. And he had seen him off when he had gone to fight for equal rights for everyone, and the light had still been in his eyes and Alexander had gripped him by his shoulders and wished him well and told him he would change the world.

_As you may know, Lieutenant Colonel Laurens was engaged to recruiting 3000 men for the first all-black military regiment. The surviving members of this regiment have been returned to their masters._

He had ruffled his hair and John had laughed and swatted at his hand and waved as he walked away.

 _On Tuesday the 27th, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was killed_ _–_

– and Alexander would never see him again.

The realization was swift in coming. The rationalization, however, was taking its time to follow. Eliza had asked him if he was alright. He was. Compared to John, Alexander was fine. He was _alive_ ; that was so much more than John would ever be again. And that was... not fair. John deserved... so much. He deserved so much more. John deserved the world. _Someone_ should have given it to him.

Someone had shot him instead, and Alexander's heart seized in his chest.

He was never going to see him again, and John would never see the world that they had changed. Yorktown had changed the world, but John's dream had died with him. No – it wouldn't – it couldn't – there _would_ be equality, Alexander would make sure of it–

Action was what the situation called for. The quill was still clutched in his hand, fingers hanging onto it desperately. He unfurled his fingers, dipped the quill into the ink, and held it, poised for action, against the parchment. And the ink pooled lazily against the surface, the feather twitching at the end as his hands shook, just ever so slightly. He did not have words, and the choking fear of inability crowded into his throat.

They had ended the war, but what they had _lost_ – it was worth it, truly, but how much longer, how many more wars were being waged unwon, how many more lives would be lost, how many more Johns would Alexander lose–

He sucked in a sharp breath, watched the ink drip from the quill, and tried to breathe through the sudden, horrifying notion that, yet again, for all of his best efforts, he was hanging onto his breath by a thread and his family and friends by even less. He was losing everyone. He was powerless to stop it.

　

 

Soon there was darkness outside his window, and Alexander was uncertain when it had gotten so late. Had Eliza called him for dinner again? The house was silent. Had she gone to bed? What time was it? What was he doing agai– _John_.

Oh, John.

Like it had the night Eliza had read him the letter, like it had the morning after, and the morning after that, it all came crashing over him again, and his heart was shattered into a thousand tiny fragments all over again. His quill was still pressed against the parchment and he cast it aside, slumping forward to put his head into his hands.

Feeling helpless was not something Alexander was accustomed to, not since he had come to America. This great country where dreams were within reach, where even an orphan could reach for greatness and seize it between his fingers. This beautiful, amazing, _wonderful_ country, with all of his friends and his newfound family. He had been surrounded by purpose and encouragement since he had stepped foot onto the harbor. He was _still_ surrounded by purpose - he had so much to do - and he couldn't bring himself to put pen to paper and _start writing_.

_"I may not live to see our glory–"_

What did he say? And what was he supposed to do now? Nothing would make it better. John would still be gone, Alexander would still be in throes of purpose and encouragement, and he would never feel any more alone than he did in _this second_.

_"– but I've seen wonders great and small."_

This was not like him. And John would, frankly, be disappointed to find him like this, Alexander was certain. John, who never stopped fighting, who had taken pointers from Alexander on that front. They had helped each other grow. John, Lafayette, Mulligan, Burr - all his friends, all people that had influenced him and he had, he liked to think, influenced in return. John would never give up. He never had, God rest his soul.

_"Raise a glass to freedom–"_

Dragging his face from his hands, Alexander thumbed his fingers through the budding tears. He would take those ink stained fingers to the cupboard for a drink. He would toast to freedom, to the revolution, to the four of them, to the two of them, to _John_.

_"– something they can never take away."_

Feeling helpless would get him nowhere, and it would not honor John's memory. It was time to face the truth; it was time to let the rationalization set in. He would have a drink, and he would permit the tears to well up and fall. He would drink to John and let his memory surround him, let his spirit lift him up.

And then Alexander would get back to work, and John Laurens would still be rooted firmly in his heart every step of the way.

**Author's Note:**

> I was late to this fandom - soml - and it took even longer to get the muses for Hamilton. I said I wanted to write some Hamburrger, dammit. I ship Hamburrger, dammit. (Is that what it's called. I saw it on Tumblr and thought it was adorable xD) Lams happened instead. _Sad_ Lams happened. Man, I gotta get my arse into Modern AU mode for these guys. T_T
> 
> Sure there's probably 1000 versions of this, but added mine to the mix.
> 
> I do not own _Hamilton_. Thanks for reading!


End file.
